


Plain and Simple Want-Take-Have

by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Drama, F/M, Jealousy, Multi, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_the_castle_77/pseuds/Queen%20of%20the%20Castle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For most of Rose Tyler’s life, her Mum has always warned her that men only want one thing. Sometimes she wishes that were actually true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plain and Simple Want-Take-Have

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much does what it says on the tin. The term 'want take have' comes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

For most of Rose Tyler’s life, her Mum has always warned her that men only want one thing. Sometimes she wishes that were actually true.

It’s not that she wants all guys to look at her like she’s so much fresh meat, the way they do sometimes at the pub when she and Shareen get a bit dressed up (or a bit less dressed, depending on the kind of night out they’re looking for). It’s just that she’s always thought that the fact that everything supposedly narrows down to that one drive for guys should mean that they’re so much less complicated than they really are. She’d expected, since even her Mum seems to know just what they want, that _they’d_ know it as well.

Instead, Mickey’s off hiding behind the spectre of Trisha Delaney – as if Rose believes for a second that that relationship’s going anywhere – and all the while he’s still trying (and failing) to pretend that things between the two of them are no different to the way they were before she ran off with the Doctor. And as for the Doctor himself... well, someone should offer a honking great prize to anyone who can tell her what’s on the Doctor’s mind _ever_ , let alone what makes him act like he wants her to have eyes only for him one moment and then as if he doesn’t mind what (or who, for that matter) she does the next. She considers blaming it on him being an alien, but she’s beginning to think, as Mickey suggests, that it’s more because he’s a bit more of a _man_ than she initially suspected.

Whatever the reason for any of it, it’s endlessly confusing, not to mention frustrating.

Is it so wrong, then, that she just wants something straightforward for once?

It doesn’t help that the obvious solution to that want-take-have attitude is constantly right there within her reach, smiling at her in a way that makes her half-expect a little ping of light to bounce of his teeth at any moment.

It’s true that she’s hardly the only person in the universe that Jack wants. However, he at least makes no apology for the fact that he _does_ want her and is well and truly prepared to do something about it. Besides, he’s not the only one she wants, either. She knows he won’t have a problem with that. That’s why she’s sure it can work.

The TARDIS lands on Raxacoricofallapatorius with no more than its usual violent jolt, apparently not really the worse for wear for having been ripped open only about an hour ago. The Doctor looks at her in a way that makes her chest hurt a little, knowing what she’s about to do.

That doesn’t stop Rose from saying, “You go ahead, Doctor. Think I’m gonna sit this one out.”

The Doctor seems puzzled. “What’s got into you? You were practically buzzing to see the Slitheen’s home world. Don’t tell me you have to sleep _again_. Humans. Don’t you ever do anything _else_?”

“Yeah, well,” Rose says slightly irritably, “maybe I just changed my mind about goin’, all right?”

Jack puts a hand on her shoulder. The touch does anything but calm her the way it’s intended to, with her frustration levels so high. What it does do is strengthen her resolve.

“No, really, do what you gotta do. I’ll be fine in the TARDIS,” Rose insists.

“What, all on your own?” the Doctor asks, his eyes narrowed.

Rose shrugs in a way that she hopes is untroubled. “Dunno. Thought Jack might keep me company. If he wants.”

Jack darts a glance back and forwards between the two of them in a moment of uncharacteristic uncertainty. Just seconds later, though, he’s all smooth confidence once again. She can tell he’s intrigued.

“Going out and seeing big snot-green bug-eyed farting aliens or staying in and spending some quality time with a beautiful woman,” Jack ponders. “Yeah, I think I’ll see you later as well, Doc.”

The Doctor’s nowhere near oblivious enough not to pick up on the undercurrents and figure out what Rose is thinking. Rose doesn’t want to look at him, knowing that, but she can’t quite stop herself.

He doesn’t look openly hurt, and Rose wouldn’t expect him to. She’s got to know his expressions pretty well over the last year, though. That stony face added to the slight inwards hunch of his shoulders is most definitely a sign that he’s hiding something. She can’t be sure what that something is, though, and that’s the whole problem. How can he expect her to wait around for him when she’s half-convinced she’s only imagining that he feels anything other than a fondness for the silly little human girl he’s picked up like some kind of stray?

He can stop this, of course. He can just tell her he doesn’t want her to go off with Jack, and that’ll be enough. She’d even take him (as would be far more like him) instead making some stupid excuse to force them to all to leave the TARDIS together, though Rose might subsequently want to yell at him for that. Of course, ideally he’d let actions speak louder than words and just ravish her, or even ask to join in with both her and Jack. Anything to let her know that he actually gives a damn.

Just as she anticipates, he does none of that. He just nods curtly. “I’ll probably be gone a few hours dropping off Margaret’s egg,” he says. He strides out of the TARDIS without looking back, though Rose isn’t sure whether or not she imagines his slight hesitation in shutting the door behind him.

“Wanted me all to yourself so you could take advantage of me, huh?” Jack quips.

“Actually, yeah,” Rose says seriously. “That’s it exactly.”

She thinks she might actually surprise him when she kisses him. It’s hard to tell, since he’s remarkably quick to recover his composure. He lets her lead the kiss for a time, though he’s anything but passive throughout. When she backs off slightly, though not enough to give the false impression that she wants to end the touch completely, he pounces.

Rose finds her back abruptly pushed against a coral strut and is glad that Jack knows how to be forceful without hurting her, for she’s sure she’d have one massive bruise across her shoulders otherwise. The way he seems to be everywhere at once, surrounding her with his larger than life presence, is overwhelming in all the best ways. She finds she can’t quite catch her breath but doesn’t really mind.

Oh yeah, she thinks as Jack presses himself into her at just the right angle to make her moan, so far Jack Harkness’s prowess has not been overstated _at all_.

His palms trace her hips and guide her against him, one hand eventually sliding around to cup her arse and make her surge up into him with even greater determination. She’s never felt so much like she’s having sex with her clothes on even while out in the clubs with the driving beat of the music setting the tempo of her and her partner’s movements and the darkness providing the illusion of privacy that it’s easy to get caught up in.

She thinks that they’re going to end up having sex for real right there in the console room if they’re not careful, and the idea of it makes her brain sort of freeze up with a mixture of want and trepidation. On the one hand, floor made of uncomfortable grating aside, Rose can’t think of many things that are hotter than that mental picture. She considers the idea of remembering their naked bodies writhing together, striving for a height just beyond reach, every time she walks into this room. She shudders.

On the other hand, though...

She’s sick of the Doctor playing games with her, but that doesn’t mean she wants to rub this in his face. He’d hate having the smell of sex hanging about in the main area of his ship, especially with that nose of his ready to pick up the tiniest whiff. He’d _certainly_ be put out if he walks in on them _in flagrante delicto_ , which might be as likely as not if even half of what Jack implies about his stamina is actually true. And if he _does_ care about her that way after all...

“Not here,” she mumbles into Jack’s neck, nipping at the softer skin there. The words are muffled, but apparently Jack catches the drift. He lifts her up so that she has to hook her legs around his waist to keep from falling. Suddenly leaning downwards into his kisses is a new and different angle that Rose gets caught up exploring, only half-aware of the way Jack manoeuvres them both jerkily through the TARDIS, stopping to press her against a wall here and there. She does spare a passing thought to be impressed by his navigation skills when – without ever breaking the kiss – he successfully lands them on a bed in what looks to be one of the many unused rooms on the ship, at least as far as she can tell in the few seconds before Jack’s right back in her line of sight and thoroughly distracting her again.

Jack doesn’t ask her whether she’s sure. Mickey – and even, surprisingly, Jimmy – did that before the first time either of them slept with her. Jack trusts Rose to make her own mind up, and she’s made it clear enough what she wants, despite whatever reservations she might ultimately have.

Rose thinks he looked dashing in his World War II getup, but there’s really something to be said for the ease with which a T-shirt and jeans can be disposed of in the heat of the moment. Jack doesn’t draw it out and make it into a show the way she’s certain he could more than manage, but watching him strip is still a tantalising sight that Rose doesn’t think she could ever get too much of. Still, she’s glad to see the last scrap of material covering him be thrown aside.

Jack Harkness, Rose thinks, might just be one of the few men who actually looks his best when naked. No wonder he supposedly spends so much of his time that way, not that she personally has been treated to the sight before now.

The Doctor doesn’t know what he’s missing.

He takes a lot more time undressing her than he did for himself. Where it might have come across as an unnecessary concession, as if he’s treating her like she’s made of glass, instead Rose feels it’s more like he’s unwrapping a much-anticipated present and wants to draw out the tension just that little bit longer. She can’t fault him in that. Every passing second that he reveals another inch of her skin and traces his fingertips over it increases the quickness of her breathing until she’s arching into him almost involuntarily and silently begging him to get it over with. He grins in acknowledgement, but doesn’t let her rush him. She doesn’t immediately quite know whether to be thankful or annoyed at his persistence.

She decides to be very appreciative indeed as he lavishes ridiculous amounts of attention on the nipple he’s just uncovered. As much as Rose would sort of like him to move on, she’s also happy for him to keep doing _that_. She wishes he could be everywhere at once, and it occurs to her again that things could have gone so much differently if the Doctor had shown some interest in being a part of this. Four hands, two mouths, two of _other things_ , their three hearts beating right to the front and back of hers, and no need for guilt to ever-so-slightly sour the moment...

Rose is already close just from the extra stimulation of that idea (she can practically _feel_ what the three of them would be like together), but Jack pulls away, not letting her slip over the edge that easily.

She makes a noise of protest, and then frowns at him as he chuckles.

“Hold up there, beautiful,” he says. “All in good time.”

“Tease,” she accuses.

“Never!” Jack says, mock-hurt by such slander. “I’ll have you know that I’m _always_ ready to follow through.”

Even as he’s talking, he’s slipping her underwear – the last covering he’s left on her – slowly down her legs, caressing her skin as he goes with both his hands and the silky material he’s gripping.

He darts in to quickly lick at her between half-parted thighs and she actually squeals with the delicious shock of it. She’s not sure whether she’d rather ask for more of that or push his face away softly with her foot and tell him to move onto the main attraction. She’s got no intention of him finishing her with his mouth. Not this time.

He takes the decision out of her hands, moving back up her body as soon as he’s tossed aside her underwear. She feels like they’ve sped up from a snail’s crawl to racing in an instant, for she’s all too aware that Jack’s teasing is over and he’s perilously close to sinking into her.

She wishes that it hadn’t been so long since she’d had sex that she no longer kept protection close at hand. Mickey had mostly taken care of that, but he’d forgotten or run out just often enough that Rose had got into the habit.

She finds that she shouldn’t have worried, though, and she almost laughs at herself for considering for a second that Jack wouldn’t be ever-prepared (though being as he’s completely naked, she has no idea where he’s pulled that little packet from, and she actually isn’t sure she _wants_ to know). It’s barely recognisable compared to the condoms from her time, but she trusts Jack, so it barely gives her pause.

She lets him take care of sliding the unfamiliar material over himself, but then adds her hand over the top of his. Their fingers interlace and she’s gratified to see his eyes drift shut as she works both of their hands over him. He feels strangely bare in her hand, as if the cover has melted right into the skin.

It’s strange, considering that he’s been touching her all over, but that moment of having him heavy against her palm is the first time she pauses to realise that she’s actually doing this with _Jack_ , her friend, her travelling-companion, a man she loves but doesn’t _love_ and is going to have to see every day afterwards, regardless of whether this continues or is a one-off that they try to treat as if it never happened (as if that ever really works).

If anything goes wrong, Rose knows exactly whom the Doctor will blame. She doesn’t want Jack to get booted into some random century with nothing but his Vortex Manipulator to his name just because she got it into her head to take him up on his constant flirtation.

“What do you want?” It’s the first time he’s asked rather than just anticipating her needs. Rose realises that if she wants to set some boundaries to try to prevent any negative fallout later, this is clearly the time, and Jack knows it.

But she _wants_ to do this. She wants everything she can get from him. Her heart’s beating a fast rhythm that practically spells out just how much she’s dying for it.

“I don’t want things to change,” she admits. “I don’t want you to leave the TARDIS.”

“Sex always changes things somewhat,” Jack says seriously. “But it’s been a very long time since I’ve let it break up a friendship. Besides,” he adds with that charming smile of his that weakens the knees of even men and women far less prone to caring for him than Rose, “I’ve got nowhere I’d rather be just now. You’re stuck with me.”

She remembers saying something similar to the Doctor, and hopes that Jack feels even part of the emotion that she was hiding behind her own flippant remark back then.

She tightens the hand that’s been lightly holding him. Their eyes meet and Rose nods.

She would have expected him to want to be in the position of control for this first (and potentially only, though Rose hopes not) time between them. Instead, Jack rolls fully onto his back and the momentum pulls her on top of him. She raises her eyebrows at the move. His return expression is a challenge. Rose doesn’t think for a moment of not taking him up on it.

She helps him slide in, and is promptly reminded that it’s been much longer than she’d like since she’s done this. His hands on her are both soothing and arousing, though; it’s a strange juxtaposition that helps her to mostly forget about her discomfort for long enough that it fades to become tolerable. He rocks up into her slightly, testing her. She closes her hands around his wrists like a vice in a silent rebuke. He chose to let her be in control. She’s not going to let him get pushy now.

She makes him wait, moving just enough to keep the tension between them, drawing it out as a kind of retribution for how slow he’d been in sliding her clothing off. He doesn’t try to push her again, not needing to be taught the same lesson twice. She can see, though, that it pains him to do no more than match her pace.

She rewards his patience by rolling her hips down into him (though it’s as much a reward for herself, she’ll admit). Then she pulls herself almost off him before sinking down again.

She accelerates things slowly, so slowly, though she can’t quite stop him from controlling the force of their thrusts, and wouldn’t want to even if she could. She grinds down just as hard to meet him, practically going cross-eyed for a moment, but her peak seems still some distance out of reach. She could speed them up and end it pretty quickly from here, but she knows that Jack had the right idea earlier: all in good time.

She tries to calm herself slightly by mentally tracking the slide of a cooling bead of sweat down her spine in the moments before Jack’s hand running over her skin collects it. It feels almost like an out-of-body moment, except that it’s more like she’s in two places at once. It’s strange, because it simultaneously pulls her away from the edge and shoves her even further onto it. Jack brings her full attention back to the one place with a fairly rough tweak of her nipple, though. Rose leans down, sacrificing the angle of their strokes briefly for a thorough kiss before pulling herself back mostly upright, though she continues to brace her hands against his shoulders, leaning slightly into him.

Jack gives her a sly look, which makes her feel twitchy all over even beyond what his touch is already doing to her.

“If the Doctor were here right now,” he says, and Rose gasps at the well-placed reminder of that possibility, “he’d put his lips right over the pulse point in your throat and suck so hard he’d leave a mark that’d last for a week, warning everyone that you’re _his_ , while he touched you here,” fingers trace her breast, “and _here_ ,” and the thumb of Jack’s other hand strums rapidly over her clit. The combination of his words and actions make her control snap at last. Jack meets her every speeded up thrust with a look of satisfaction, as if driving her to this is more the point of it all than orgasm itself, though that’s quick enough to follow.

As she reaches climax, she finds herself on her back abruptly, though she thankfully doesn’t feel the full extent of the rough treatment, being as lost as she is in more pleasant sensations. Jack, done letting her call the shots, works quickly towards his own orgasm, eventually coming with a deep grunt and an oddly tender stroke of his fingers through Rose’s sweat-dampened hair.

He collapses just barely to her side, avoiding squashing her by inches, and Rose pants while a spasm plays through the muscles in her legs, forming a protest against her suddenly putting her body through vigorous physical activity that it’s no longer used to.

“If the Doctor was here now,” Rose says with a tired laugh, “I bet what he’d _really_ do is throw us both out an airlock or somethin’ and be done with us and our humanness. Or he’d at least set the hose on us.”

“The TARDIS has a hose?” Jack asks.

“I dunno. It’s got a pool, lurkin’ somewhere ’round hereabouts. Stands to reason, don’t it?”

Jack licks a line of salty sweat off Rose’s shoulder before laying his head there. “Guess I’ll have to stick around and explore the place a bit better. It sounds like I’m missing out on a party.”

“Yeah,” Rose agrees. “But it’s a huge old ship; bigger on the inside and all. You might have to stay a _long_ time to get a real feel for it.”

Jack sighs long-sufferingly. “I suppose I will. It’s a hard life.”

Rose snorts, wishing she could be bothered to lean her head up enough to give him a joking glare.

She knows she should get up and have a shower. The Doctor will be back soon, if he isn’t already. It would be best if she and Jack were ready to go off on another adventure as quickly as possible so that he doesn’t have a chance to get annoyed at their stupid human hormones, or whatever. Particularly if they’re going to keep doing this, it’d probably be best to ease the Doctor into the idea of waiting around for them this way. And yet, even knowing that, Rose is just a little bit too tired to drag herself away from the comfort of the soft mattress and Jack’s body heat.

Just a few minutes, she thinks. She’ll just close her eyes for a little bit.

* * *

Jack makes certain with a quick look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror that he’s completely presentable and not grinning like a man who’s just been well-laid after a longer-than-usual-for-him period of abstinence. Then he walks (making sure not to swagger too much) out into the console room.

As he expects, the Doctor is already there, pretending to fix some part of the TARDIS that’s not broken (or, well, everything on the TARDIS is a little bit broken, from what Jack can tell, but he’s sure that’s the gravitational inducer the Doctor’s picking at, and it’s clearly working well enough to be getting on with, even if it’s not in tip-top condition).

The Doctor pretends not to see or otherwise sense Jack’s entrance for quite a while. Jack waits patiently. He senses that, if he’s the one to start this fight, the Doctor will decisively _end_ it, and not in a way that’s likely to leave Jack relatively unscathed, either.

“I could drop you off in a black hole, you know,” the Doctor says, proving the point.

“I know,” Jack replies simply.

“I wouldn’t even blink. I might find it helpful every now and then to have an extra set of hands around here, but I wouldn’t miss you if you were gone half as much as I regret letting you come on board in the first place.”

Jack doesn’t say anything in response to that, because he can sense it’s at least partly a lie. From what little he’s managed to learn of the Doctor’s past, he knows that he’s an extremely dangerous man. He absolutely could, and would, kill Jack if Jack earns it. But Jack doesn’t think it’s just his own pride that makes him believe the Doctor feels _something_ for him, and would miss him.

“If you ever hurt her, or even think about putting your own life before hers, you’ll wish that’s what I’d done to you,” the Doctor warns, still not looking up. Jack doesn’t need to see his eyes to know that they’re burning cold.

“I don’t know all of what I’ve done in my past,” Jack says. “And I know that some of the things I _do_ remember don’t paint a pretty picture of me. But as long as I’m on your ship, I’m your crew, and you can trust me to watch your back and hers. If there ever comes a time when you can’t anymore, I’ll tell you up front, and then I’ll step straight off and fend for myself wherever I end up.”

The Doctor nods, finally looking up at Jack. He thinks he might have earned at least a little bit of the Doctor’s respect for not doing him the disservice of claiming he’ll always stick by the Doctor and Rose. There’s just no way to know that. He’d thought he’d never leave the Time Agency, either. Things change.

What’s important is right now, and for now the Doctor has Jack’s word. He doesn’t give that often. He hasn’t forgotten that he owes the Doctor his life for rescuing him off an exploding ship at least as much as the Doctor and Rose owe him theirs for taking that bomb on board in the first place. That’s a bond that means something to him.

It means that if the Doctor tells him to actually stay away from Rose then he will. He doesn’t say as much to the Doctor, pointing out that next time the Doctor should stop being such a martyr and speak up. What would be the point? The Doctor knows the solution to his problem without having to be told, but he’s clearly made the decision to stay away from Rose that way, at least for now.

It’s an odd sort of stalemate they’ve all landed themselves in, and Jack has no doubt things on the TARDIS are going to continue to be tense, though interesting. He expects a few more death threats from the Doctor to keep him in line, even.

But he thinks of Rose curled up around a pillow asleep in the bed they’ve just shared, and he thinks of the way he can tell the Doctor is at least a little bit attached to him, albeit grudgingly.

It’s worth it.

~FIN~


End file.
